This is an old blog post I wrote when I was still practicing in Chicago. This was a very unique case. I was just 40 years-old trying a career case that was like pitching game seven of The World Series and quarterbackingThe Super Bowl all wrapped together. The pressure was immeasurable. Had he been convicted my client would have spent the rest of his life in prison. What follows is a long read but, I think, it’s worth it. My second novel, “Concealed Carry,” was loosely based on this case but wholly different factually.

In early August 2009, I was called by a young woman. Her brother was in the county jail and needed a lawyer. At this point, there’s nothing unusual about this caller and the problem. I don’t get many personal phone calls, so when my phone rings, it’s typically someone with a loved one in jail. “What kind of case does he have?” I asked. “He shot two police officers,” she answered.

This was no longer a typical phone call. I think I remember sitting down.

I wasn’t the first attorney she called.  It seems the other lawyers simply wanted nothing to do with this case or wanted an obscene amount of money. I was told that the family didn’t have a lot of money, but clearly had a pretty big problem. This phone call came pretty early in my criminal practice. At the time, this case was beyond anything I had handled. But I admit, I was intrigued.

I asked if she knew anything about the case. She told me what she knew, which made me really interested. I told the caller I would go to the county jail and meet with her brother. I looked up her brother’s information on the sheriff’s website. I quickly learned in which division he was being kept.

Then I Googled his name to see if there was a news story. There were several. Here is one of them and probably the one I read first. Not that I doubted what the caller told me, but reading this made me realize how serious the situation was. A cop shooter? And I admit the picture of Kenneth Green didn’t make a good impression. He looked mean. He looked how I imagined someone that shot cops would look.

Probably the next morning, I drove to Division IX of the Cook County Jail. I showed my credentials at the desk and requested to meet with Mr. Green. After a cursory pat-down, I was taken inside the jail and escorted to the approximate location of Mr. Green’s deck. Of all of the divisions in the Cook County Jail, Division IX creeps me out the most. You have to go underground to get to it and it reminds me of The Silence of The Lambs, where they kept Hannibal Lecter locked up.

I was lead to a room upstairs. It had a plastic table and two plastic chairs inside of it. That was it. I saw down at the table, turned to a fresh page on my legal pad and wrote “Kenneth Green, Div IX August 5, 2009” centered on the top line.

A couple of minutes past. I sat there staring at the blank sheet of paper while wondering who was about to walk into that room. Would it be some would be cop-killing thug? I told myself even before I left for the jail that day that if Mr. Green had really tried to kill a couple of cops, there was no way I was taking the case. No way. No way. No way. Not that I don’t believe such a person is entitled to competent legal representation. It just wasn’t the type of person I wanted to represent.

Eventually Mr. Green walked in. I stood up to shake his hand. I quickly told him my name, that I was a lawyer and his sister called me. He said “Thanks for coming to see me, I’m Kenny.” He was taller than myself, standing almost 6 feet. He was thin. Not sickly thin, but definitely not the body of someone who had overeaten regularly.

We sat down to discuss his case. It was pretty clear that he had grown up in the streets. But he was nothing like his picture made him appear to be. I detected no meanness. And he was certainly no thug. He hadn’t been convicted of anything, I was told. I believed him. I work with a lot of criminals. Kenny wasn’t a criminal. Rough around the edges, perhaps. But nothing more than that.

By the time Kenny finished telling me what happened, I knew I wanted his case. The story in the media was incorrect, which I was coming to learn was pretty typical when it came to crime reporting. For several reasons, I believed every word that Kenny told me. It just made sense. There was nothing bizarre about it. But the question remained: would the physical evidence support his version of the story? I would have to take the case to find out. And so I did.

The arraignment was the first time I appeared in court on behalf of my new client. Even though I knew this was an extraordinary case, two things happened at the arraignment that really drove this point home. The first thing that happened was that the prosecutors introduced themselves to me. The only thing out of the ordinary with these guys is that they were very senior in the State’s Attorney’s office. They were so senior, I had never seen them in a courtroom. They were big wigs and both of them taller than myself.

The second thing that happened is when the judge handed me the 48 count indictment. 48 counts? Really? That indictment was so thick, one of those giant industrial sized staplers had to be used to fasten it all together. The size of the staple was enormous. But I arraigned Kenny like he was any other client, “Not guilty to all counts.”

When I walked out of the courtroom that morning I knew I was in neck deep. Actually, at the point, I was probably in way over my head. I hadn’t tried a case yet. You may ask if it was smart or even professional for me to take the case. All I can say is that Kenny’s family knew I was inexperienced and so did Kenny. But they also knew I believed in the case. Also, I was the only attorney they could afford. Since they didn’t want Kenny to be represented by a PD, I was the only option. In reality, I priced myself so they could afford me. I wanted that case. 

Even though at the time, I knew I was short on experience, I never doubted my abilities as an attorney. I knew it would be a long time before the case went to trial and by the time it did, I would have trial work under my belt. That assumption ended up being correct.

Every month when the case came up for discovery status, I got more and more documents. By the time discovery was complete, this file would take an entire banker’s box to contain it. For a Chicago criminal case, that’s a big file. Take my word for it.

And every month, I saw the same two prosecutors. I got to know them and even grew to like one of them a lot. The other one was eventually demoted within his office and was replaced on my case by another guy I also grew to like. As it turned out, we had a somewhat common military background. But I think the State kept thinking I was going to ask for a plea deal. I don’t think anyone but myself, my client, and his family really believed this case would ever see a trial.

I began preparing this case for trial on day one. I guess in the long run, that gave me an advantage. And my theory of the case never changed: my client didn’t know he was shooting at police officers and the drugs found in his bedroom belonged to his brother. I would ultimately have to teach a jury that this wasn’t just a theory but was, in fact, the truth. If I failed in doing so, Kenny could be gone for life.

I never lost sight of what was at stake. But at no time did I ever think about seeking a plea deal. Why? Because I believed in the case. However, because of how people think, I knew it would be a tough sell to a jury. But I also believed in my ability to tell Kenny’s story in a way a jury could understand. Or so I’d hoped. Also at no time did Kenny ever mention a deal. He wanted a trial. He wanted to take the stand and tell a jury what happened.

In the late fall of 2009, I went to see where this incident took place. I took my camera and measuring tape. I took pictures and measurements. I also made sketches. While I was inside of the apartment, my passenger side window was shattered with half of a brick and my GPS was stolen. This had been the first time I ever did not put my GPS in my glove box. I mean the absolute first. I was slipping and I got caught. I blame that one on myself.

This case changed judges three times due to administrative reasons in our courthouse. This was going to be a jury trial from day 1. I didn’t want to put a judge in the position of having to find someone who shot 2 cops not guilty. No, a jury trial was the only option. I just needed a good jury. I needed jurors who would do their job.

It took well over a year for the State to complete discovery. The Independent Police Review Authority (IPRA) conducted an investigation of this case as they do in all situations where the police discharge a firearm. This investigation delayed the discovery process. I also used the Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) to obtain Chicago Police Department documents that pertained to search warrants, from obtaining them through post-execution.

In the spring and summer of 2010, three off-duty Chicago Police officers were shot and killed. It was obvious a trial even remotely close to those events time-wise was a bad idea. Thus, I continued to take my time but didn’t intentionally delay.

The case was originally set for trial in April 2011, but the State wasn’t going to be ready. It was rescheduled for June 2011, but I couldn’t get ready. The trial was again rescheduled for August 2011. The judge firmly said, “Unless one of the attorneys dies, this trial is going in August.” I took her for her word.

I also knew I was going to need help with this trial. I needed a 2nd or 3rd year law student at a minimum. There was going to be a lot of exhibits and I wasn’t going to have time to keep track of them. I was also going to need help during final trial preparation. I needed someone to constantly test and challenge my theory of the case as we discussed the evidence.

I had a 3L that said she wanted to help. She would have been allowed to sit at counsel’s table during the entire trial. It would have been great experience but she pulled out suddenly 2 weeks before the trial. Shit. I started to get into panic mode. In a last ditch effort I sent out a Tweet seeking help from a law student. I said I would pay.

I will admit that I was freaked out about this trial that was looming in the near future. Every day I got deeper in August, the trial got closer. Even though I was very confident in my case, I was scared. I was lining up against numerous members of the Chicago Police Department and two very senior prosecutors. I didn’t even have a law clerk. But I did have a very powerful ally, the truth.

The trial was scheduled for August 22, 2011. On August 12, I left town for a long weekend. I needed to get away from Chicago and let my head clear before this trial. While I was out of town, I was contacted via email from a young lawyer from Indianapolis that I had some familiarity with through Twitter. She wanted to help with this trial. But there was a problem. I could not afford to pay her an attorney’s wage for her work. She didn’t care. I told her we would talk when I returned to Chicago.

When we spoke, I gave her a brief rundown of the facts of the case and my theory. I told her that I could pay her very little and she agreed. There were friends in Chicago she could stay with while here. And she really, really wanted to help with this trial. It wasn’t hard to see why. These types of cases don’t come along too often and she wanted in on it. Perfect.

On Saturday August 20, 2011 I had a 20 mile run that morning and ran sub 7:00 miles the whole way. Post-run found me relaxed and ready to do final prep work. My co-counsel, DawnMarie White, arrived Saturday afternoon having made the drive from Indianapolis late morning. She parked her car at her friend’s house. I gave her directions to get to the nearest train station, got her on the train, and told her at which stop to get off. She texted me when she was close and I walked to the train station to meet her.

At the train station we exchanged hellos and a handshake. We made the 10 minute walk back to my loft and immediately went to work. I had the entire file spread out on the cabinet island counter. Earlier that week, I made a 3 page “To Do” list. I showed her the list and we began work.

It’s amazing but as soon as DawnMarie arrived on Saturday, I felt much better about the task at hand. I think just having someone next to me as we went into battle got my head into a better place. I had books open all over my loft. I had to look up some rules of evidence in anticipation of objections I knew were going to come. I looked through the Bible that is the Trial Handbook for Illinois Lawyers (Criminal Edition). This is an absolute must have if you try cases in Illinois. A must have. All three volumes of the Illinois Pattern Jury Instructions (Criminal) were open and scattered about my place.

Fortunately, the actual case file was well organized. All of the discovery was broken down into manila folders. The FOIA documents were still in the envelope in which they were mailed. And the IPRA documents were already broken down by police officer and witness.

I originally planned to call 6 witnesses during my case in chief. I gave DawnMarie the statements from 4 of them. They had all given statements to IPRA. But my client’s mother had also given a handwritten statement to detectives and a prosecutor on the day of the incident since she was arrested too. The mother had also testified before the Grand Jury. Her story never wavered once.

I wanted DawnMarie to learn what the 4 witnesses had already said and draft direct examination questions to elicit the same version of the story they already told. At that time, I hadn’t thought about having her cross-examine any police officers. She was to help me prepare, keep track of exhibits, be my 2nd set of eyes and ears, and do the direct of our 4 female witnesses.

On Sunday we walked over to a nearby Fed-Ex/Kinos and made duplicate trial notebooks. They were large, filling a 3″ three ring binder. Back at my place, we went through the police officers that were likely to testify. Unlike most cases, we had police testimony to the IPRA investigator. Thus, going into trial, we knew how they were going to tell the story. And therefore, we knew what facts we could get from each officer that would advance our theory of the case.

Separately, DawnMarie and myself made hand-written notes about each officer’s likely testimony that would help us. From these notes, cross-examination questions/outlines would be prepared. We parted ways on Sunday evening pretty early, but both had work to do that night.

On Monday morning we went to court. Here is how we looked.

Monday afternoon we finally got to pick our jury. Voir dire is done pretty efficiently around here. Both sides are allowed to ask questions of the venire. But we are not allowed to pre-try the case. In other words, we can’t ask them questions about issues likely to surface during trial. What’s that leave us with?

I was never taught how to pick a jury. Or what questions to ask during voir dire. The judge asks each panel member separately a number of questions, such as occupation, marital status, children, know any cops or lawyers, been a victim of a crime (or anyone in their family), and so on. It gives us a decent idea of who they are. But keep in mind, our jury pool extends to the entire county of Cook. Thus, a lot of potential jurors are from the suburbs and usually are white. DawnMarie and I had discussed who our ideal jurors would be. But I believe voir dire is more about dismissing people I don’t want on the jury as opposed to selecting those I do want on it.

When I get up to speak to the venire, I go through all of them one at a time and ask a question that digs a little deeper into one the judge already asked. For instance, if a potential juror told the judge he’s a sports fan, I will follow up and ask him about specific sports and teams. I must have asked at least 6 this last time around, Cubs or Sox? I usually also ask if they follow the news and from where they get their information. I ask them if they read books. Where they go on vacation.

The importance of these questions isn’t really the answer. What I am looking for is how that person interacts with me. Are they speaking to me willingly? Are they smiling? Are they relaxed? What’s their body language look like? Typically, anyone that’s cagey with me or doesn’t appear to like me will be removed.

I can’t figure out why, but the prosecutors ask very few questions of the panel individually. And I can’t say the questions they do ask make much sense. I really don’t think they are ever taught what to ask. In at least 2 jury trials, the prosecutors did not question the panel at all. A very skilled trial attorney once told me that you start to win your case during voire dire. I think he’s right. You cannot put a price on having a jury that likes me. From that point forward, I do everything I can to not give them a reason to suddenly stop liking me.

Voire dire in this case took about 4-5 hours. We had our 12 and 2 alternates. Of the 12 there was 1 early 30’s black male. And 1 early 30’s highly educated Hispanic female. The remaining 10 were white and mostly from the suburbs, about half male, half female. But most of them had families. Having a family is one thing we wanted our ideal juror to have.

I spent most of Monday evening writing my opening statement. But I didn’t spend much time preparing cross-examination. This would bite me in the ass on Tuesday in a way I couldn’t have predicted.

Tuesday morning we gave opening statements. I was pretty relaxed and looked every juror in the eyes several times each. I had their attention. Score. I spoke for about 15 minutes and told them the story through my client’s eyes, attempting to put them in his shoes before they heard any evidence. I told them what to look for during the trial. And finally, I told them that at the close of evidence they would, by using their common sense, conclude my client was not guilty on all counts.

Unfortunately, I never know what order the State will call its witnesses. And they just happened to call an Officer I wasn’t really ready to cross-examine. Shit. The direct lasted until the lunch break. Thank God. During lunch I never left the courtroom. Instead I sat there panic-stricken trying to put together a cross-examination. My co-counsel never left my side and attempted to help but I was a bit of a mess. Also as luck would have it, I began to feel physically ill.

By the time court resumed after lunch, I had some cross but it was not in order but rather scattered across 6 pages in my legal pad. Less than 2 minutes into my cross, I began to sweat heavily. I was extremely warm. I felt faint. I felt sick to my stomach. And my thinking was foggy. At some point during my cross, we had to have a sidebar in chambers. After the sidebar, I was the last one out just before the judge. She told me I looked nervous. In truth, I was nervous but also wanted to vomit and jump in a pool.

In total, my cross took maybe 20-30 minutes. It was disjointed, fragmented, sloppy, and just felt awful. It was the worst 20-30 in my career as an attorney. When I sat down, DawnMarie could now clearly see I was sweating heavily. She pulled out a travel size package of tissues and handed it to me. I must have gone through a dozen of them wiping the sweat from my face. I could feel my that dress shirt was soaked.

During the next break, I went into the bathroom right outside the courtroom and threw up. I hadn’t eaten anything so it was that nasty stomach juice type of vomit. But I felt a little better. During the direct examination of the State’s next witness (another officer) I asked DawnMarie is she wanted to do his cross. At that time, I was still a mess and wanted to be anywhere but in that courtroom. She answered, “Sure.” She knew what we needed out this witness so I wasn’t worried. However, there was impeachment evidence and I had no idea if she knew how to do it correctly. After all, this was her first jury trial. Yep, her first.

DawnMarie stood up to cross the officer. Where the officer I crossed got a little combative with me, this officer was actually pretty nice and respectful to her. I honestly think it’s because she’s a woman. Nevertheless, she began her cross and I sat back and watched. To say I was impressed in an understatement. Prior to trial, I told her how I cross witnesses and my general strategy. I don’t know if she had that in mind or not, but she was fantastic.

She laid the foundation for the impeachment. She got the officer to admit to his prior statement, which was inconsistent with his trial testimony. She got a few more good facts from him and sat down. Perfect. There was no need to beat this cop up about an inconsistent statement. I would remind the jury of it during closing.

DawnMarie sat down. I leaned over and whispered, “Good job!”. I relaxed a little. The next witness was an evidence technician that had processed the crime scene. He collected all of the firearm evidence (shells and bullets), marked the bullet strikes in the walls, and took a number of the crime scene photos.

After vomiting one more time, I pulled myself together to cross this witness. I got a lot of favorable facts such as how many shells were collected that were fired by police weapons. How many spent and live shells (4 spent, 5 live) there were in the revolver my client had fired. I put up a picture that showed bullet strikes in my client’s bedroom that were caused my police weapons. He had put numbered stickers over each hole in the dry wall. I had him tell the jury how many holes he counted and marked. I also showed him a picture of the door the officer fired his M-4 carbine through and had him count the bullet holes as well.

But the singular best piece of evidence I got from this witness was this: it was the State’s theory that in addition to shooting low twice initially and hitting two officers in the lower legs, that he shot twice more but higher through the door. The State would argue this proved he was attempting to murder the person on the other side of it. One officer had already testified he saw particles coming off the middle of the door as bullets came from inside the room my client was in. But curiously the wall opposite that door had no bullet strikes on it.

I showed the evidence technician a picture of the room which contained the wall that any bullets that came from the middle of that door would have hit. You could see the wall in the picture. I was displaying the picture on a projector so everyone in the courtroom could see the picture very enlarged. The witness was standing right next to me in front of the jury where the projection table was located.

I asked, “You didn’t find any bullet strikes on that wall (I pointed at it), right?” Answer: “No, we did not. If there were any bullet strikes on that wall, we would have marked and photographed them up close.” This was a nice example of a witness helping me out by giving more of an answer then he should have.

Using the same picture, I asked, “But you did find two bullets under that box spring or bed (pointing at it), correct?” Answer: “Yes, that’s correct.” Then I sat down. I told the jury during opening statements that my client fired through a hole (created by the cops trying to kick the door open) on the bottom of his bedroom door 4 times, thus he wasn’t trying to kill anyone but was rather warning the unknown intruders he was armed and ready to defend himself.

With this one witness, the jury heard my client’s revolver had 4 expended shells and that there was no physical evidence he shot through the middle-upper part of the door, but rather through the hole at the bottom, just like I told the jury. Having credibility with a jury is priceless.

But before we ended that day, everyone knew I had just been temporarily ill. I am sure part of it was due to not being fully prepared to cross that officer. I was also a bit nervous. But there was something that spiked a fever, which started to break while I was on my feet asking questions. As we were leaving the courtroom, both prosecutors told me they hoped I felt better tomorrow. And they were genuine.

DawnMarie and I returned to home base and began to prepare cross-examination for Wednesday’s witnesses. Even though my cross of the evidence technician went well, I was still very upset about the first witness.

DawnMarie told me that at one point during that cross, she felt that I was a really bad lawyer. I would have thought the same thing. I can’t imagine what the jury thought. I needed to have a strong Wednesday. But as we sat reviewing the facts we got from my dodgy cross, we realized I had gotten everything I needed to from that witness. I just got no style points. This was a small consolation. I knew I was better than that.

We prepared cross that night for 4 more police witnesses. I asked DawnMarie if she wanted to cross 2 of them, including one that had been shot. She readily agreed. There was one more officer on the potential witness list and we had no idea what he was going to say. Thus, if he did testify I would do his cross since there wasn’t much he could add since he was outside and in front of the apartment when this happened.

When I woke up Wednesday morning I didn’t want to get out of bed. I was still upset with myself over what happened on Tuesday. The dark side of me simply wanted to quit. Had the pressure gotten to me? Was I starting to show cracks? I slumped out of bed and made coffee. Then I went for a run. I normally run in the afternoons after court, but when in trial, I have to get up early and get the run out of the way.

Initially my run was no good. My energy levels were low and it didn’t feel good. But after a couple of miles things turned around. I remember that morning being very sunny and cool. And as I ran on the bike path that runs along Lake Michigan, I began to pull my head back together. Tuesday was just a fluke. Probably happens to everyone. Hell, even Michael Jordan had off nights. By the time I finished my 8th mile and returned home, my head was back in the game. Let’s do this.

We had a good Wednesday. With so many officers testifying, I predicted we would get inconsistent testimony because I felt they were all coloring the story. Or, in other words, lying. And we got some gems that day. DawnMarie’s cross of one of the officers who was shot was pretty short but she scored points. Her and I would later say we felt sorry for that officer because he seemed like a really nice guy.

I crossed the other officer that got shot and with the use of pictures make him look like a liar in front of the jury. He testified to things that were simply impossible and I had the pictures to prove it. I would later nail this guy in closing. Then I questioned the Sergeant that was in charge of this search warrant team. Armed with the documents I obtained through FOIA, I got him to admit he hadn’t followed correct procedure. He also gave testimony that was heavily inconsistent with the previous witness. Both points would be driven home during closing.

The State did not call one of the witnesses DawnMarie was supposed to cross. But they did call the officer who was outside and in front of the apartment. He didn’t have a whole lot to add. He was in front, heard the shots, and immediately ran to the back. Once in the back he saw one of the officers that was shot hopping down the back stairs that led up to the entrance in the apartment (the door the police blew open).

On cross he testified that from the time he heard the first shot until he got around back was about 5 seconds. That was simply impossible. By the time the officer began hopping down the stairs, all of the shooting was over. The police fired 37 times into the bedroom my client was in. And one officer shot a few times through the door and then went outside and shot through a window. There was no way that all happened in 5 seconds.

But, it supported an argument I would make during closing: this whole thing happened so quickly and since my client was initially asleep, he had no way of knowing what was really going on. In other words, he couldn’t have known they were cops since he couldn’t see through a closed door. My client, in reasonable fear for his and his family’s lives, acted in a couple of seconds. Now I had police testimony to support my argument that this whole thing went down extremely quickly.

Around 4:30, the State indicated it was done with their case in chief but wanted to wait until first thing Thursday morning to officially rest. DawnMarie and I left and again returned to home base. Due to logistical reasons, we were not able to actually meet with our witnesses to prep them. I had spent most of the previous Friday afternoon in the county jail with my client. I took 12 pages of notes and basically had his whole life on paper.

But Wednesday night, DawnMarie spoke on the telephone with the witnesses she was going to put on. I was supposed to put on my client and his brother. They would be our last two witnesses. We made a last minute decision not to call one of DawnMarie’s witnesses. There wasn’t much to be gained through her testimony.

When we got to the courthouse on Thursday morning, our witnesses were there. This was the first time we really spoke with most of them in person. Clearly I had spoken with my client’s mother but never about her testimony. She just needed to stay consistent with her prior statements and Grand Jury testimony.

DawnMarie spoke with her witnesses individually very briefly. I spoke with my client’s brother. I was very nervous about calling him as a witness. We opened our case Thursday morning and DawnMarie called 1 witness before the lunch break. She called 2 more after lunch. And then I decided on the spot not to call my client’s brother. He did have good testimony, but we got most of it in with another witness.

I also felt he could come across as not too credible. I didn’t want the jury to think I was trying to fly bullshit by them. It was my decision not to call him and no one, not even my client, knew I decided not to. DawnMarie and my client knew I was having 2nd thoughts about calling him, however. But as soon as I called my client to testify, it was clear I was skipping the brother.

My client was a good witness. I got in some very general background testimony to establish who he is, etc. Though it was objected to, I got in that he had been shot in the past three times. But the judge’s ruling during that sidebar really tied my hands. She wouldn’t allow me to really get into the specifics of each shooting. I told the judge that I feared if he simply said he got shot but not why or by whom, the jury might conclude he’s a gangster living the gangster life, which often includes getting shot. The judge said I could ask 2 questions per shooting.

The first question I asked was when the shooting happened. The 2nd question asked about the circumstances of that shooting. Unfortunately, my client simply stated where in his body he was shot and any injuries he sustained. As soon as he started to answer the question that way, I looked at the judge. She wasn’t pleased. But I had asked during the sidebar to be allowed to lead so the jury would hear no more or no less than what the judge wanted them to hear. Example: “You were shot the first time when three guys attempted to rob you, correct?” I thought that made a lot of sense. But the judge said no.

Through his testimony, my client told the story as it had happened through his eyes. This was exactly what I did during opening statements. He talked about being scared. Massive amounts of adrenaline. Fear for his life. Fear for his family’s lives. And how he had been asleep and this all happened in a matter of seconds.

He stood up well to cross-examination. The prosecutor tried to trip him up several times but he was on to it and frequently corrected his questioner. He finished testifying around 6:00 pm. We rested our case. Court was dismissed for the day with closing arguments scheduled for 9:00 am Friday morning.

Walking to the parking garage that night, I told DawnMarie that if I delivered a solid closing, I thought we would get the verdict. I felt good. Now I just needed to close it. 

During the three days of testimony, we were supposed to begin at 11:00 am. This was so the court could run through its call, give continuances, and handle minor administrative issues relating to other cases in that courtroom. But we usually started closer to 12:00 pm.

The trial was not well attended. There were what appeared to be police officers here and there along with an occasional law student or junior prosecutor but that was about it. However, since closing arguments began at 9:00 am, we had a packed gallery. Everyone who had business in that courtroom that day was there. I imagine there were even some people out in the hall because there was no more room inside.

But when I stood up to close, I no longer noticed anything or anyone but the jurors. I already wrote about my closing argument here. The State’s closing was, as usual, aggressive and slightly loud. But they were trying to sell the jury on things the evidence didn’t support but in a lot of cases, contradicted. They had to argue around bad facts and that’s never easy.

The jury got the case at 12:19 pm. We left our phone numbers with the deputy and left. I did not want to stay in the courthouse while the jury was deliberating.

On the way out of the courthouse, we ran into one of the alternate jurors that was excused from service as soon as the jury went into deliberations. This was the first time I had ever spoke to a juror and I found it to be a great experience. I won’t repeat what he said, but it appeared he was leaning towards giving us the verdict.

A couple minutes later, the other alternate juror was pulling out of the parking garage, saw us all talking, parked his car, and walked up to us. His feelings were pretty much the same. We both thanked them for taking a few minutes to speak with us and headed home.

By the time we gathered our things, walked out of the courthouse, got in my car and drove home, it was about 1:30 pm. Given what the 2 alternate jurors told us, I hoped for a quick verdict. I told myself that if deliberations go into the evening, we might have a problem. As hard as it was, I tried to relax.

At 2:00 pm my phone rang. It was the deputy. They had a verdict. My pulse instantly quickened and I got a slight rush of adrenaline. We hoped back in my car and headed back. I called my client’s mom and told her to head to the courtroom. I remember feeling pretty good during that drive but there was a palpable level of nervousness lurking beneath.

We were back in the courtroom pretty close to 2:30. Everyone was waiting for us. The deputy knocked on the judge’s door and told her we had arrived. The gallery was now full of cops and my client’s family. The judge came out, took the bench, and had the jury brought in.

When the jurors walked in, at least 3 of them looked directly at me. To me, that’s a good sign. The foreman handed the deputy the verdict forms. The foreman handed them to the judge. The judge read them. My palms were sweating massively. After reading the forms, the judge reminded the gallery that no outbursts would be allowed.

The judge handed the forms to the clerk and asked her to publish the verdict. The clerk read 8 Not Guilty verdicts. The feeling was beyond describable. The State asked for the jurors to be polled. Individually they confirmed their verdicts. Case over. My client was ordered to be released from the county jail.

The prosecutors looked deflated. I walked over to both of them, shook their hands, and thanked them for a fair trial. Then I walked to the lockup where my client was changing back into his jail clothes for the last time. He said “I love you”. I teared up and we hugged. Twice. DawnMarie hugged him as well.

Outside the courtroom my client’s family awaited. His mother thanked and hugged me firmly. I said “Thank you for trusting me with your son’s life.” I was teary eyed again. She replied “I always had faith and trust in you, Marcus.” More tears. Another hug.

We all took the elevator to the first floor and headed towards the front door. A gaggle of police officers along with the prosecutors were just outside. I warned the family. “Don’t look at them,” I said. “Just walk on by,” I added.

DawnMarie and I exited through a revolving door and stepped outside. All of the cops stared right at me. I don’t know what they were thinking, but I am sure it wasn’t good. It was a beautiful, sunny day. I pulled out my sunglasses and put them on. We strolled right past everyone and headed home. Time for celebration.

We walked to a pub down the street from me. Here we are….

We each had 2 frozen margaritas and were happily buzzed. I walked DawnMarie to the train stop, said thanks and hugged her goodbye. I came home and laid on my couch. Exhaustion took over. I didn’t move much for the next couple of hours. I stared at the TV without realizing what I was watching.

At 10:30 pm, my phone rang. It was Kenny. He called to say thanks again as he walked out of the Cook County jail, which had been his home for the previous 25 months. Not many phone calls are better than one like this. I said “You’re welcome. Now spend some time with your family.” We said goodbye. I turned off the TV and got into bed. 

I slept well that night.